


ramble in the roots

by BerryliciousCheerio



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Hart Family Feels, Irish Bonding Trip, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 09:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8323147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerryliciousCheerio/pseuds/BerryliciousCheerio
Summary: It’s not everything, Maya knows.  But it might be close.or: maya hart takes her mama to ireland





	

**Author's Note:**

> DONT TALK TO ME OK  
> MAYA AND KATY DYNAMICS GOT ME FUCKED UP  
> THIS TOTALLY ISNT BC IM AN ONLY CHILD OF A SINGLE MOTHER W/ AN ABSENTEE FATHER AND HEARING MAYA TALK ABT TAKING HER MOM TO IRELAND MADE ME SOB LIKE A BABY
> 
> IM NOT CRYING, YOU'RE CRYING
> 
> disclaimed

 

 

 

They’re broke—really broke, like _living in a shitty apartment above their favorite Vietnamese place and surviving off of frozen lasagnas Maya’s mom sneaks into their freezer_ broke—and then one day they’re not.  One day Maya opens their bank statement and doesn’t flinch; instead, her eyes go wide and her hands get a little shaky when she realizes that all the little deposits they were making added up to something. 

When Riley gets home a half hour later, Maya’s still at the kitchen table, but now she’s surrounded by spreadsheets and highlighters and a calculator and what looks to be her fourth cup of tea.

“Hey,” Riley greets cautiously, dropping her bags onto the couch before making the short journey across their cramped front room.  “Whatcha doin’?” she asks, leaning her chin on the top of Maya’s head and trying to make sense of all the half done math in front of her.

“So,” Maya starts, tapping her pen against the worn table.

“So?”  Riley drops a kiss to Maya’s crown before she pushes away from the table and starts rifling through cupboards to start dinner.

“So you know how we’re kind of drowning in debt?”  The tapping increases as she speaks, leg starting to bounce when she reaches the end of her sentence. 

Riley barks out a laugh, glancing over her shoulder to look as Maya as she says, “I’m aware.”  The tapping and leg bouncing stops—Riley senses the shift and turns around fully, brows knitting together as she looks at her girlfriend who’s grinning so wide it’s kind of blinding.  “Peaches, what’s going on?”

Smoothing the bank statement against the table, Maya grins.  “What if I told you we weren’t anymore?”

 

**...**

 

So technically, they’re still in debt, but not so much that they get laughed out of the bank when they apply for a mortgage.  Still living on a tight budget, but not shoestring.  They start looking at grown ass apartments (according to a slightly drunk Maya when she drops her list of picks into Riley’s lap) a couple months later, when Maya’s certain that it wasn’t just a fluke, that they actually were doing better. 

The third apartment is the one they fall in love with—Riley with the big open living room and the small bedroom across from what’ll be theirs that has her thinking about a little girl with Maya’s eyes and Riley’s love for purple cats; Maya with the bathtub in the master and the sun soaked corner of the living room that she can picture her easel in; the both of them with the bay window in the master bedroom, looking down onto the street below.  They sign the next day.

And then they’re grownups.  Like actual, honest to god grownups and Maya doesn’t mention it right away, but she has a list of things she wants to do, things she was waiting until she was an adult to do, waiting until things were more settled. 

It starts with a ring for Riley, a vintage one with an etched band and a set of three stones that Maya’s spent years saving for and months searching for.  And then it’s buying a real couch, replacing the sagging and falling apart mess of flower print that they got for free from one of Riley’s coworkers.  After that it’s finally fixing their car and reinstating monthly trips upstate to co-opt Shawn’s cabin.  And then after that it’s the wedding and honeymoon that they’re both giddy to plan.

Maya doesn’t mention the last thing on her list until they’re back from their honeymoon.  And she knows it’s silly because they’re not that well off, really—like, they’re still spread pretty thin about ninety percent of the time and it’s probably the most fiscally irresponsible thing that she’s ever considered, but it’s something that she’s thought about since the ninth grade, so that has to count for something, right?

She does little research before she tells Riley—not a lot, because she still feels like maybe it’s ridiculous, but she makes a spreadsheet of costs and has a handful of hotel options and a general timeline by the time she texts Riley from work to tell her that she has something important she wants to talk about when they get home.

It gets a little lost in the shuffle of returning home, spreadsheets shoved into a stack of files Maya’s bringing with her.  It’s nearly eleven by the time she remembers, jerking upright on the couch and startling a dozing Riley, who, up until that moment, was comfortably cuddled against Maya. 

“Wha—whass goin on?” Riley slurs, struggling to sit up and focus on Maya, who’s half off the couch, headed towards the bedroom.

From the back of the apartment, Maya yells, “I had something important to talk to you about!”

Part of Riley wants to ask if it can wait until morning, but she figures if it’s enough to rouse Maya from a cuddle session, it probably can’t.  By the time Maya reemerges, Riley’s marginally more awake and is up making tea.  “Oh!” Riley smiles when she turns and sees the papers in Maya’s hands.  “This is _official_.”

“It kind of is,” Maya admits before settling in at the dining room table.  She waits until Riley’s brought both mugs of tea over, until she’s sat in the chair next to her before she drops the papers. 

“Alright,” Riley says.  “Lay it on me.”

Hesitating, Maya rolls and unrolls a corner of her papers, still hiding the contents from Riley.  Finally, she says quietly, “I want to take my mom to Ireland.”  She hands the papers over, sitting back and picking at her thumbnail while Riley looks them over silently.  After several long, excruciating moments, Maya asks worriedly, “What do you think?”

“I think…” Riley murmurs, trailing off as she scans the last page, eyes jumping across the timeline Maya spent hours poring over.  “I think it’s a great idea,” Riley says, looking up with a soft smile.  “Have you mentioned it to your mom yet?”

“I—,” Maya starts, flushing.  “Not yet.  I wanted to make sure you didn’t think it was a stupid idea.”

“Of course it’s not!” Riley gasps, dropping Maya’s work to reach for her hands instead.  “Maya, this is something you’ve wanted for a long time.  Of course it’s not stupid." 

Just when Maya doesn’t think she can fall any deeper, Riley proves her wrong.  “You remember it?”

“Duh,” Riley half-yawns.  “It was important to you.  ‘Course I remembered.  Geez, I mean—I was going to bring it up if you didn’t.”

“Okay charmer,” Maya murmurs, standing when Riley yawns again, jaw popping.  “This was a good first talk, but I think it’s time for bed.”

“Super first talk,” Riley responds, standing as well and leaning in for a kiss, eyes closing.  She misses Maya’s mouth by a mile, landing a gentle kiss on her eyebrow instead.  “Super time for bed,” she announces afterwards, eyes opening slowly.

Grinning, Maya tiptoes for a real kiss before she pushes her sleepy wife down the hall and off to bed.

 

**...**

 

They have a couple more talks later—mostly about nuts and bolts but eventually Riley gets it out of Maya that she wants to do this as a surprise for her mom. 

“I just—,” Maya huffs, tears springing forth unbidden.  She throws herself back into the couch and wipes at her face roughly.  “She did everything for me and I feel like I didn’t show how much I appreciated it enough.”

Reaching back, Riley grabs a few Kleenex and offers them to Maya, who refuses for a few stubborn moments before giving in and blowing her nose into one noisily.  “Peaches, I’m sure she knows.” 

“It’s silly, I know—.”

“I didn’t say that,” Riley cuts her off gently.  “I think it’s really sweet you want to surprise her.”  And then, as if sensing that Maya’s just about reached her limit for emotional vulnerability, Riley switches topics.  “So were you thinking for Christmas or Mother’s Day or something?  Or just _boom_!  Ireland.”

Maya lets out a little laugh, sniffling just once more before she admits sheepishly, “I was kind of thinking for her birthday.” 

Her birthday…which is in two months.

“Okay,” Riley says after a pause.  “Alright, we can get this done.  You and Shawn can plan the party and I can get my mom to mark off her vacation days and—what?” she breaks off, frowning at Maya, who’s watching her with this mooney look in her eyes.  “Is there something on my face?”

Shaking her head, Maya pushes up to kiss her softly.  “You’re just really awesome,” she answers when she pulls back.  “And sometimes it just hits me how lucky I am to be your wife.”

“Well, I—,” Riley starts, blushing.  “I’m glad to hear it.”

 

  **...**

 

Eventually, it all gets settled.  Something like relief washes over Maya when she finally purchases the airfare, when she finally books the hotel—like she didn’t believe it would actually happen until it did. 

On the day of her mom’s party, a full week prior to her birthday in order to really surprise Katy, Maya dodges her mother’s calls and communicates solely through Shawn or Thea, her eight-year-old sister.  Riley— _bless her_ —handles most of the time keeping details and child wrangling, picking up Maya’s littlest sisters from daycare and making sure that everyone knows when to be at the bakery, where Katy’ll be headed to straighten out what she thinks is a scheduling problem.

Topanga arranged for the cake and Maya entrusted Corey and Shawn with the decorating (only after a very serious conversation wherein she threatened to cook Thanksgiving dinner if they went off book).  Maya, for her part, dealt with invitations and, of course, the present to disguise her real present. 

“I made Mama a paper maché heart,” Thea’d informed her a week earlier, when Maya brought her sisters along to the mall for their weekly outing/super secret mission to help her find something for their mom.  “And Daddy helped Tess and Lucy make handprints and stuff.”

“That sounds cool,” Maya had responded absentmindedly, examining a World’s Best Mom mug in the all-but silent Hallmark.  Lucy, resting on Maya’s hip, chewed on the collar of her shirt. 

Thea suddenly gasped, causing a panicked Maya to nearly drop the mug as she whipped around to check her over, looking for immediate damage.  When there was none, she internally heaved a sigh of relief and nearly told her sister to not scare her like that when Thea went on to say, “You should paint her something!” 

Heart rate slowing, Maya smiled and responded, “That’s a good idea Thea, but, I mean, I paint her something _every_ year.”

“I dunno—she puts them up every year.”

And then, from her place hanging onto Maya’s leg, Tess added, “They’re really pretty,” though her current struggle with _r_ ’s made it sound more like “Theyw weally pwetty.”

It wasn’t a solid gift yet, but it _was_ a good idea.  And it was pretty obvious that none of them were all that enthusiastic about the offerings of the mall.  Maya’d taken them out for ice cream and, after dropping them off and begging off from staying for dinner, had gone home and started planning.

The real problem is now she has no idea how to tie it into the whole _surprise!  We’re going to Ireland!_ thing. 

Or, well, she had tied it in—she’d painted an Irish landscape on a postcard.  Really, the problem was that she had no idea what to write on the flipside.  Or how to put what she actually wanted to say into something condensed enough to fit.

She settles on something kind of cheesy and hopes for the best, because suddenly it’s two and her mom is supposed to swing by the bakery around three, so Maya sort of needs to be there before that.

She wraps everything on the subway and makes it into the bakery by half past, walking in and finding everything perfect which eases at least a little of the stress that she’s suddenly found herself dealing with.  

Riley being Riley catches this the second Maya steps into the building, spotting her from across the room and making a beeline for her.  “What’s wrong?” she worries, shuffling Maya off to the side, a bit removed from the bulk of the party.

“Nothing,” Maya sighs, letting her wife fuss over her, taking the gift from her hands and tucking it at the back of the present pile.  “I just—this is a good idea right?”

In a moment, Riley relaxes, nodding and smiling and encouraging, “It’s a great idea, Maya.  Your mom is going to love this.” 

Which is—it’s a good thing that Maya’s so easily bolstered by Riley’s words, because Shawn’s shouting, “She’s early!” brandishing his cell phone like a beacon.

People scatter, ducking behind counters and couches and, in Maya and Riley’s case, throwing themselves into a booth and ducking down.  Topanga hits the lights.  Lucy, across the room in her father’s arms, babbles, “Mama?” before she’s gently shushed.

Maya knows when her mom walks in because she walks in talking to herself.  “—could’ve sworn we’re supposed to be open—,” she mutters as she flips the light switch.

And then—“ _Surprise!_ ”

**...**

The party goes off without a hitch.  Maya’s a little proud.  Her mom was shocked in the best way, before she burst into the best kind of tears, reaching to gather her children and husband up into a damp, kind of snotty hug.

Around five, after cake has been eaten, Katy finds her eldest daughter and says, “Baby girl, this has been one of my best birthdays,” before wrapping her up in the sort of hug that she was known for (which is to say, a ridiculously tight one).

“Well Mom,” Maya murmurs, pulling away.  “There’re still presents to open.”

Which is how Katy Hunter, wife and mother well into her forties, ends up surrounded by her friends and family, ready to watch her rip into her pile of gifts like a five year old.  Maya organizes the older two of her sisters to help bring presents to their mother and clear them away, and she holds Lucy in her lap as she watches everything unfold from her spot beside Riley, at the front of the crowd.

Her mom works through the pile efficiently, sure to thank each gift giver.  Eventually, she gets to Maya’s present—one envelope, the second saved for a little later. Under the table where they’re seated, Riley grabs Maya’s hand.

So Katy opens the envelope, pulling out the hand painted postcard and smiling softly.  “Maya, this is gorgeous,” she breathes, turning it to show onlookers.  “Oh!  And there’s something written here.”  She brings it closer to read, making a joke about needing glasses and getting old.  Maya doesn’t laugh, just grows more nervous.  “ _Hey Mama_ ,” Katy starts to read.  “ _It’s beautiful here!  The grass seems greener and the sky seems bluer and everything seems more alive.  Wish you were here.  Love, Maya_.”

Katy looks at her eldest with confusion, eyebrow quirked up.  And yeah, okay, it’s a little cryptic but it was the best Maya could manage, balancing the mystery with not giving the whole thing away in front of a crowd.  Her mom doesn’t prod for any enlightenment, content enough with the mystery. 

The party breaks up not long after, friends leaving in a steady flow until it’s just them, just the family.  Maya finds herself suddenly nervous, sidling over to her mom when there’s a lull in the clean-up.  

“So, I sort of have another gift for you,” Maya says, almost shy.  “It goes with the other one.”

Her mom lights up, grinning as she responds, “I don’t know how anything can top what you already gave me, baby girl.  Today’s been wonderful. 

“I—ah.  Well,” Maya stammers, handing over the second envelope.  “Just open this.  And like—I mean—.” 

Before she can stumble over any other words or accidentally spill the secret, Riley appears beside her, slipping her hand into Maya’s and effectively stopping the train wreck about to happen.  Shawn shuffles over next, Thea hanging onto one ankle, Tess on the other, and Lucy in his arms.  Auggie comes next, pulled over by Ava—they catch Corey and Topanga’s attention, who’re the last to join.

Katy waits until the circle has formed around her, shooting a confused look at her husband when he pulls out his phone and starts recording.

And then she opens it.  Maya’d be lying if she said she wasn’t holding her breath—that changes when her mom pulls out the tickets and, after a beat, bursts into tears.

It takes a moment—a few moments actually, of Katy staring at the tickets and then looking up at Maya and then back to staring at the tickets, and then Maya’s mother is in front of her and Riley’s moving aside to let her get swept up into this absolutely bone crushing hug, squeezing the breath out of her in the best way.

“Oh my god,” her mom gasps.  “Maya, this is too much, I—.”

Shaking her head firmly, Maya cuts her off.  “You deserve this.  No ifs, ands, or buts.”

She must look pretty set on this, because her mom doesn’t argue.  Just pulls away a little to look at her with this proud, soft look.  “Okay,” her mom laughs.  “Alright.”  She lets Maya out of her hug but grabs her hand with her free one and she says gleefully, “We’re going to Ireland!”

 

**...**

 

It gets pretty chaotic in the weeks leading up to the trip; her mother’s birthday is April fifth and they leave on May third, so there’s a bit of scrambling involved.  Maya hadn’t packed much more than a pair of fuzzy socks because—honestly?  She was pretty sure something was going to fuck it up somehow.

But, like—nothing fucks it up.  So Maya spends a few weekends half yelling with her mom as they both frantically pack while their respective spouses try to assure them that everything will be fine.  Some have decidedly better results (some being Riley, who figures out that if she sits behind Maya and plays with her hair, she never gets that close to crying).

And then it’s the day of.  Maya’s up first out of sheer panic, out of bed and pacing the length of their apartment when Riley wakes. 

“You okay?” Riley asks from the doorway of their bedroom as Maya makes another lap, looking sleepy and adorable and normally Maya would kiss the look of concern she has right off her face but—well. 

“Honestly?  I’m freaking out.”

“M’kay,” Riley hums, rubbing her eyes.  She reaches out to snag Maya’s arm as she makes another loop through the apartment.  “Okay.  You’re going to be super-duper fine,” she tells Maya, brushing the hair that’s escaped her bun out of her eyes.  “You guys are going to have so much fun.”

“I feel like you should be coming with us,” Maya says quietly.  She knows what Riley’s answer is going to be—she knows it because she was the one that first said it; this trip is something she always meant for just her and her mom.  It’s not that she wouldn’t love for Riley to be with them, but it’s something that needs to be just them.  They also—like, they’re not strapped for cash anymore, but they really can’t afford for both of them to be on vacation without pay for two weeks, especially since they’ve been talking more and more about starting a family and—yeah.  There are a lot of reasons.

Riley must realize that Maya knows all of these reasons by heart, because instead of refuting her, she just hugs her and nods, “I know, Peaches.  But you guys are going to have a great time, and someone has to hold down the fort.”

“You’ll send me pictures of Minerva?” Maya asks, glancing over Riley’s shoulder at the kitten still asleep on her pillow.

“Duh.”

Maya lets out a heavy breath.  “Okay,” she concedes.  “Okay.  I’m going to shower and then finish packing.”

“Or I’ll finish packing for you and you can relax a little,” Riley suggests—though it sounds more like a command.

“You make a compelling argument, Mrs. Hart.”

“I try, Mrs. Matthews.”

**...**

When Maya gets out of the shower, the sun is just starting to rise and her suitcases are fully packed and sitting at the door.  Riley’s just putting a cup of coffee in front of Maya’s normal spot at the table, humming to herself and turning back to make her own cup.  When she notices Maya, she pauses and grins at her, full force, saying, “Perfect timing.  Shawn just called to say that your mom is getting ready and that they’ll be here at seven.”

Nodding, Maya sits down to her coffee, wrapping her hands around the oversized mug and letting the warmth seep into her fingers.  She watches her wife move assuredly around their kitchen, their small shared space.  This’ll be the longest they’ve been apart since their freshmen year of college—that first awful year and even then, they were only a half day’s train ride away from each other. 

“So I figure we can FaceTime when you get to your hotel,” Riley says, finishing her drink and coming to join Maya at the table.  “Yelp said it has really good wifi.” 

Something burning and tender chokes Maya up, and instead of responding she leans over to kiss Riley, long and slow and the sort of goodbye that they wouldn’t be comfortable having in front of Maya’s parents.  “I would climb a moderately high mountain to talk to you,” Maya promises when she pulls away, grinning at the pleased little smile Riley has, the dopey love struck look in her eyes that Maya knows she reflects just as brightly.  She doesn’t say what she’s really thinking— _I would climb every mountain to get to talk to you._ It’s a little saccharine for her taste, a little too heavy for a two-week vacation.

They eat breakfast in relative quiet; at six fifty-three, Maya’s parents are knocking on the door and everything gets loud and fast and too much.  Topanga is over at the house with the girls—both Maya and Katy had said their goodbyes the night before, knowing full well that they wouldn’t be waking up for this send off. 

Shawn brought his car and volunteers to load up Maya’s bags, backing out of the apartment before Maya can offer to help.  Katy helps Maya grab her last minute carry on things, Riley double checking the inventory of Maya’s purse, stacking her wallet, passport, and boarding passes.

And then they’re in the car—Shawn in the driver seat and Katy in the passenger, Maya and Riley squished into the back, a suitcase resting on their laps.  Sometime after they’ve crossed out of the Village, Riley reaches over and takes her hand, resting it on the case between them. 

  

Maya doesn’t start crying until they’re settled on the plane, squished together in coach.  She’s pretty proud of that—she only teared up a little when she looked back and caught Riley waving from the passenger seat of Shawn’s car. 

Her mom doesn’t say anything—something Maya understands more when she looks over and catches Katy hurriedly wiping her own rushed tears away.  

And it’s not—it’s not all sad.  Very little of this is sad, Maya knows.  Because yeah, they’ll miss their family, but that’s not what the tears are really for, she doesn’t think.  It’s for _this_ —this plane and these tickets and all the ocean they’re about to cross, all the miles and years.  This was always a pipe dream for Maya, something she never dared to mention out loud for fear of ruining it; for fear that if she gave it a name, assigned it a little hope, it wouldn’t happen. 

But they’re here.  They’re doing this.  It’s real.

Her mom grabs her hand as they start to taxi, squeezing and saying, “Baby girl, this is going to be one hell of a ride.”

 

**...**

 

When they land in Ireland, it’s raining, which, all things considered, Maya feels like she should have expected.  The taxi that she’d arranged to pick them up is, thankfully, waiting just outside of baggage claim, and the driver is an affable, older man that comes around to help with their bags.

“So where’d’ya come from, ladies?” he asks, once everyone’s settled in, buckled up, and he’s pulled away from the curb.

“New York,” both Maya and her mom answer, stumbling over each other’s response.  “My daughter surprised me with this trip,” Katy tacks on proudly. 

“Oh lovely!” their driver—Tim, Maya reads off of the confirmation email on her phone, says, merging into traffic.  “Here to visit family or just see the sights?”

“A bit of both,” her mother replies.  “My side of the family is originally from Ireland and we’ve got a few distant cousins still here…”  She keeps going, trading jokes with Tim and staring out the window, eyes wide at the flashes of lush green that break through the heavy fog of the morning.

Maya’s more than happy to let her mother take over the conversation, content to sit back and stare out at the scenery they’re passing.  It’s not much—a lot of gray, a lot of city, but it’s still the first foreign country Maya’s ever been too, just alien enough to make each stoplight something of a wonder. 

**...**

Their hotel looks out over a river—her mom cedes the bed closest to the window to Maya, but Maya sees the muted wistfulness in her mother’s eyes when she looks out at the water below, so she moves her suitcase to the other bed without comment.

“I’m going to explore a little,” Katy tells her, slipping her jacket on.  “I’ve got my phone on me and I’ll be back by—when do you want to get lunch?” 

“Noon?" 

“I will be back by noon, then,” her mom grins, leaning in to kiss Maya’s forehead.  “Call your wife, sweetheart.”

Maya nods, calling out a goodbye as the door clicks shut behind her mother.  When she checks the time on her phone and sees that it’s barely five in the morning, she almost doesn’t call.  But knowing Riley, she’s already up—or is still up, curled up on the couch.  Minerva on her lap.  Half-asleep. 

All at once, she misses her wife.

Riley picks up on the second ring, her image fuzzy and pixelated for a few moments, her voice crackling until the connection strengthens.  “Peaches!” she grins wide.  “Are you settled in?  Is it great?  Have you found a pub yet?" 

“Riles,” Maya laughs, “it’s ten in the morning.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be encouraging day drinking.  But I demand a complete rundown of what’s happened so far.”  She swings the camera down to Minerva, curled up and purring on the pillow next to her.  “Minnie demands it too.”

 

**...**

 

The trip passes faster than Maya could have imagined—less emotionally too.  Somehow they make it to the second week, to the last full day without a breakdown of some sort. 

But it happens.  Maya knew it would.

It’s midnight, officially the last day of their trip.  They came in late to their hotel in Clonakilty, the last stop on their adventure and where, historically, Harts and Clutterbuckets hail from—they were sleep deprived and just the tiniest bit drunk, due in part to the pub conveniently located across the street from their hotel, but, more importantly, due to the bottle of whiskey that Katy’s cousin gifted them, one of a set. 

“I’m a terrible mother,” Katy breathes, joking, though the bite in her voice says otherwise.  “Drinking with my daughter.”

“Other way around.  I’m the lame-o drinking with my mom.”

So maybe they’re a bit more than a tiny bit drunk.  Drunk enough to draw out half joking confessions.  They’re shoulder to shoulder on Katy’s bed and, after a beat of quiet, Maya murmurs, “Remember the apartment we were in before we moved in with Gammy?”

Katy turns her head to look at Maya—not that Maya would know, only catching it out of the corner of her eye, so intent on memorizing the pattern on the ceiling.  “I didn’t think you remembered that one,” Katy says.  “We were only in it for a few months.”

Maya shakes her head.  Blinks slowly.  “Our old apartment seemed so empty after he left.  Too big.”

Half snorting, her mother asks incredulously, “That place?  It was a shoebox, sweetie.”

“Still.”

It must finally sink in that this conversation has moved away from lighthearted nostalgia, because Katy sits up, leaning against the headboard—waits for Maya to continue.

“There was this big empty space that I kept—I kept expecting him there.  His chair in the living room.  His spot at the table,” Maya breathes, a little surprised that she remembers this so well.  “Right after he left, I kept waking up and checking all of his spots to see if he came back.”

“I remember that,” Katy says, beginning to brush through the tangled ends of Maya’s hair.

A pause; a breath.  “It felt too big for us.  Too much space separating you and me.  That shoebox we moved into—I liked how small it was.”  Maya’s eyes close without her meaning to, already drawn back to that winter; the tiny one bedroom on a sixth floor walkup.  The heat that worked only half of the time.  The evenings Maya spent camped out at whatever temp job her mom got for the week, after she picked her up on her dinner break, never getting home until midnight, always falling asleep on the floor of the store or office and waking up in bed, her mother passed out beside her.  “I was glad when Gammy moved up and found a place, but I—it wasn’t all bad, for me.”

It’s not a secret, but it’s not talked about all that much—the only person Maya ever really talks about it with is her therapist, a woman Riley made her go to after she broke her hand punching a wall.  But yeah.  Maya’s childhood was hard.  A lot of it was the constant tension of just barely scraping by, but never having enough to feel good about it.  It was constant hunger and the lights cutting out and the heat groaning to life after being off for two days.  Cold baths and screaming from the apartment next door.  Sharing bread with rats.  Pots and pans on the floor, half full of water.  It was never so bad that it was unbearable, though; it took Maya a long time to realize that it was because of her mom.

Because this is the other open secret Maya holds; her childhood was filled with impossible stories and well-worn books and fairy lights that ran on batteries, twinkling in the dark.  A new coat and boots each winter even as her mother went without. 

All at once, Maya’s crying. 

“Oh, baby girl,” Katy whispers, helping Maya when she sits and pulling her into her chest.  “Oh Maya.”

She feels her mother’s tears drip onto her hair, can feel the guilt in each stroke of her mother’s hand through her hair.  “No, no,” she chokes out.  “No, Mama, you did good." 

“You did good, Maya,” her mom says thickly, fiercely.  “Did better than I did at your age.”

Blindly, Maya grips her mother’s wrist.  “Because of you,” she insists, twisting to look her mom in the eyes. 

Her mother blinks down at her.  “You know,” she says abruptly.  “We have a long day tomorrow…today.  We should get some sleep.”

There’s no arguing with her.  Maya lets her mother bundle her up and tuck her in, watches her putter around their room and shove a few last minute things into their bags, leaving out their clothes for the next day, their clothes for the trip home.  Watches as she turns off the lights and watches as she, finally, climbs into her own bed.

The memories come quick.  The bittersweet taste they leave lingers.

 

**...**

 

Their last day was set aside for a trip out to their ancestral grounds—the long-since destroyed village an hour out from Clonakilty.  The castle they’re supposed to have once lived in. 

They don’t talk about what happened the night before on the drive out, silent in the backseat of their uber.  Maya shoots off a string of texts to Riley, because she’s so much better than she is at handling this sort of thing, even if she won’t get a response for a few hours at the earliest.

They meet up with a tour for the village, doing the walk through the ruins with a guide explaining that this ruin used to be a bakery and that ruin would have been the town meeting place.  The tour ends in a little museum, halfway up the hill to the castle.  Most people are coming from a cruise or something and load up onto their bus after hitting the gift shop, but Maya and Katy make their way through the whole museum, matching names from a list the Katy compiled thanks to quite a bit of digging on Ancestry to the pictures on the walls. 

When they walk back out, after eating the sandwiches they bought in the shop, it’s nearly noon and they begin the hike to the castle.

It doesn’t go fast—in fact, the walk is excruciatingly slow.  They walk in silence, tense at first, but relaxing the longer they go; Maya watches in awe as the years slip off of her mother’s shoulders, the grays shine golden in the sun.

When they reach the top, they’re both laughing.

It’s not everything, Maya knows.  One trip could never cover all of the love and respect and gratitude she has for her mother—her mom, who dreamt up fantastic stories to chase away monsters, who hid with Maya under her bed when thunderstorms knocked out the lights; her mom who took the brunt of Maya’s misplaced anger, swallowed it all without a word in order to maintain the pedestal Maya placed her father on.  Her mom that kept the lights on, that kept the roof from leaking too much, that gave Maya her coat so she wouldn’t catch a chill.  There’s no way for Maya to put all of that into words, let alone one grand gesture.

But considering the way her mother is staring out at the green hills of Ireland from the ruins of a castle that their people once lived in, her eyes wide and smile wider—Maya thinks it might be close.

 

 **...**  

 

Riley’s at the curb of the airport with a giant sign, glitter glue and all, grinning wide; Shawn’s behind her, with this look of exasperated amusement that Maya is quite familiar with. 

Katy nudges Maya as they struggle through the crowd of baggage claim.  “I know you want to run over to her,” she says with an eye roll, tempered by a warm smile.  “Give me your suitcase.”

“I—,” Maya starts, glancing back at her wife, still beaming.  She knows that Riley won’t be hurt if she doesn’t run to her, romantic drama style.  Knows that she’ll understand.  Knows that her mother deserves every ounce of happiness she gets.  “I know that you want to run over to him,” Maya parrots, grinning and nose wrinkling at her mother.  “Hand it over.”

Katy narrows her eyes for a moment, scrutinizing her daughter.  And then she’s sliding her suitcase over to Maya’s open hand, looping the strap of her carry on over the upright handle.  She pulls Maya forward, hand gentle at the back of her head when she presses a kiss to her forehead.  “Jeez,” Katy sighs.  “When’d you get so grown up on me?”

Laughing, Maya squirms away and waves her mother on, smiling widely when Katy lets out a peal of laughter, light and airy and young, and sprints down the sidewalk into her husband’s arms.

Riley catches Maya’s eyes as she shuffles over, rests her hand on Maya’s wrist before she has a chance to launch right into loading up the car.  “You’re sweet, you know that?” Riley asks, smiling at her wife with this melting, soft look in her eyes. 

Maya shrugs.  “I probably gained about twenty pounds,” she says instead of responding directly.  “Figured you wouldn’t be able to hold me if I ran at you.”

Rolling her eyes, Riley slides her hand down to Maya’s, reeling her in for a soft, lingering kiss.  “You’re ridiculous,” she murmurs into her neck a beat later, having pulled away only to draw Maya into a hug.  “But you’re insanely sweet, Mrs. Matthews.”

Glancing over her wife’s shoulder, Maya watches her mom talking with her hands, eyes alight with excitement as she no doubt launches into a long winded debrief of their adventures to her husband.  “Learned from the best,” Maya whispers.

 

 

 


End file.
